Melon
by MuddyWolf
Summary: Speculation on why Bradley gives Ed melons. This is NOT an Ed x Pride fic, so don't look for any yaoi.


Legal Stuff: Pride is not mine.

A/N: If I've counted right…that makes 10 fics about Pride, and 8 fics about Ed as Pride. I'm not a canon person, (vampire Integra, yay!), and this fic is far from it, but thisis..ridiculous. Imagine an actual fan of Pride (yes, they DO exist) wanting to find a fic about the Fuhrer, and the 8 out of the 18 Pride fics are about Ed. It's very discouraging. Repent Or Live will have to wait.I need to address this. Mostly anime, some from the manga.

1/11/06

Melon

by Blue9Tiger

The Fuhrer sat at table, smiling rather genially at the meal that had been prepared by the cook for him and his family. More accurately, the two humans, one of which was much akin to scenery like the lawn outside or the street beyond that. The other..perhaps he had wanted to feel something for him, and occasionally he did feel something. It certainly wasn't love. his Master had told him over and over again, in sweet, caressing tones that failed to veil that conditional love he had for the Homunculus.

You are my finest creation. I love you above all else

_If you do as I say_.

He thought bitterly. How he seethed in secret. He put up that damned smiling façade for everyone, for his "family"---that _he _had hand-picked for him: he had no voice in who his companion would be--- his subordinates, and especially for his Master. Especially for him.

What a liberation…when he had driven his sword into the steel armor and into the heart of that snake—how good it felt to actually be _Pride_ for a change. To have hate etched into his features while he slaughtered a potential threat to the mission. To not be smiling for once—what was a smile but for an expression of happiness?

And anyone who saw his true nature could tell that Pride was not happy.

Yet day in, day out, if he was in front of a human, or in front of his Master, he was the epitome of glee.

And at that moment he was putting up this façade again, making occasional conversation with the scenery that did little but breathe and make the room warmer and the little boy that he felt a little something for, whatever that was. But the hardest part of this act wasn't a feigned interest in the conversation, but bearing the taste of the food.

What WAS this slop, anyway, that passed for sustenance? It was vile. And he had eaten it three times a day for the past fifty years.

At least before, a hundred, two hundred years ago, he had real nourishment…human lives. And though the red stones passed from his system like the steaming duck would in a few hours or so, it was the closest thing to happiness for the Homunculus.

With one exception.

The Fuhrer had excused himself from the table, retrieved his sword and coat, and left.

He walked in measured pace past the rows upon rows of bottles, filled with liquor from Aerugo, Creta, Xing, and Drachma. Xing especially---had good drink.The human that he looked like…He fingered his moustache briefly in thought….must have been from Xing. But it had been so long since he was stationed there, perhaps the humans looked diffferent now.

Alcohol was not nourishment, so it wasn't like "food". It made him feel warm, it made his mind swim, sometimes it made him forget all the blood he spilled in order to…

What? Did he care? Unthinkable.

Sometimes it made him lose himself. In images, vague and blurry, as if underwater. Images of a human tending a melon patch. They were swollen and ripe. The human puttered tenderly over them. There was another human feeding the fruit.They would grow, and flourish. And these sequences ended in the same way. The humans turned to bones, and then dust. Then the melons rotted. It was the same thing every time.

The Fuhrer stood in front of the window of his spacious office. He smirked.

There was a time long ago before he knew better that he thought those nameless humans were a memory. But then That Person had taught him the truth.

_Who are they?_

He once asked, recently-born, crouching on the floor, that ouroburos that took the place of an eye roving the room unceasingly, the fully-developed hands grasping at the air, an adult with the curiosity and unassuming innocence of a child.

_They? They're no one. Pay no attention to them.There is only me. And there is you. But you would not be here unless I did not wish it. Remember that._

Pride did. Even 300 years later. Those images of no-ones and nothings, they passed without any more deep reflection. He was barely conscious of them. But those..fruits.

Right, wasn't that why he had come to his office in the first place?

If he lingered here too long his security team would probably attempt to drag him back home. After all, General Hakuro was acting as Fuhrer in his stead for the moment.

Bradley turned from the window and made his way to another part of his office, more secret and well-guarded than the bookcase that concealed his Master's lair or the skull of the dead human whose failed transmutation created him.

He reached a hand into this well-hidden compartment, and withdrew from it a large, green fruit. The absence of the first led the other one resting on top of it to land on the rest of the pile with a soft thud. There must have been at least twenty of them. He bent forward, shoving the rest of the shifted melons in so the door would shut. Clutching his prize almost jealously, he retreated to his polished desk and set the fruit atop the surface.

And there was the one and only thing that Fuhrer Bradley loved.

He didn't know why. The love was instinctive. Perhaps because it was round, like a stone. Or a reason more carnal. Or maybe it was because it was the only human food he actually enjoyed. Yes..the perfect, flawless melon.

"Humans take so much for granted," he snorted, running a palm over the green rind. "They're ungrateful creatures, all of them---" With an irritated grumble, he drew his sword, so often bloodstained and clutching a severed limb from its end---and sliced the melon.

As he was eating it he smiled.

"…."

"What's wrong, brother? You look mad." The giant suit of armor peered far below at his sibling's metallic hand. In it rested a sack with a large, green fruit. The frozen-faced suit of armor suddenly lighted up. "Is that a---?"

"IT'S THE SEVENTH ONE!"

Some heads turned at the shrill scream that erupted in the hallway.

"WHY THE HELL DOES THAT PSYCHO GIVE ME MELONS ALL THE TIME! DO I HAVE A SIGN ON ME THAT SAYS, "I LIKE MELONS"! IS HE TRYING TO SAY I NEED TO GET TALLER!"

Alphonse's glowing eyes lit up in terror—the whole time he had been gently nudging Ed, but to no avail. The wrathful blonde had been shrieking at the top of his lungs for everyone who was currently on that floor—including a certain high-ranking military leader, to hear.

The façade was up again.

"You don't like melons? That's quite a shame, son."

Everything about him smiled except for his soul.

"I just don't understand why you like them so much to give them to me all the time, sir."

"Why, Fullmetal? It's because"

Under the eyepatch the left eye narrowed at the human in a piercing glare.

_You're going to make the Philosopher's Stone and turn us all into humans. _

"I like melons. They're good for a growing boy like you."

_You're going to bring me to life. The least I can do is offer you the only food of your kind that's worth eating. _

_I believe that's what you alchemists call Equivalent Exchange._

The End


End file.
